The Things He Would Do
by atomish
Summary: In which Matthew isn't quite so invisible because Alfred needs him and pink casts and red skinny jeans are involved. The things Matthew would do for his brother. Brotherly relationship only, no pairings, just a light-hearted little story :D T for language


**A/N: **Wow, I haven't been here in forever, have I? Well, posting-wise anyway. So this is my first not-in-the-Death-Note-fandom fic that I'm posting up *nervous* I had drawn a picture of Canada in red skinny jeans and America with a pink cast and then they somehow merged together to become this fic. Yeah. Hopefully the ending wasn't too, too awkward :/ But I had fun with this idea which I had *gasp* written in only one day~! So now, onwards~

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia or any of its characters or anything that you may recognize (including: Roots, Tim Hortons, Timbits and maybe others…?)

**Warnings: ***Gasp* Matthew's potty mouth, use of human names and not so pervy use of skinny jeans (sorryy~ D:)

XXX

_The Things He'd Do_

When Matthew got the call from a hospital in the middle of Nevada, all he could say was, "Again? I'll be right there."

With a sigh and a forlorn look at his flat-screen television, still displaying a video of an old hockey game, he heaved himself off of the couch and made his way to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. He'll need _a lot_ of it if he was going to survive driving all night.

Unfortunately, this wasn't the first time. Neither was it the third or fourth. Matthew had lost count of the amount of times he had gotten calls from hospitals in the states, requesting his appearance because yet _again_, Alfred had gotten himself injured _somehow_. He often wondered why in the world he had let the other put him down as the primary contact anyway and then he remembered that it was because they were brothers. Unfortunately.

So, a quick trip to the bathroom to clean up and half an hour later, he had his suitcase in the trunk of his car and was ready to go. Matthew thanked whatever gods were listening that he had his bag already packed because of a World Conference scheduled the next night or else who would have never gotten there. Which reminded him that he should start the car instead of just sitting in it, daydreaming about the hockey games he would be missing.

Resigning himself to his fate of forever caring for his brother, he started the engine with a rumble, eased himself out of his suburban garage and began the 21-hour-and-seventeen-minute drive to Las Vegas.

In actuality, it took Matthew 21 hours and 32 minutes because he did stop at a Timmy's right before the border, even though he still had half a pot of home-brewed coffee left; he could never resist the lure of Timbits after all.

Still, he did make it to the North Las Vegas Hospital by three in the afternoon so he'll accept that as an accomplishment. Plus, he didn't even look like a complete wreck just yet.

"Mr. Matthew Williams?" The nurse at the front desk smiled politely as he stumbled to the counter, running a hand to calm his no doubt, unruly hair.

"Uh, yes," He stammered, slightly self-conscious of his 'Canadian accent' since he was far enough away from the border for it to be noticeable. "I'm here for my brother, Alfred Jones?"

"Oh yes," Matthew didn't miss the small grimace that flitted over her lips. "He's a bit of a…handful, isn't he?"

He groaned as she continued to smile professionally.

"Oh no, what has he done _now_?" He really didn't want to know because it was way too early for this.

"Well, for one, he's been refusing to be released for the hospital until your arrival, Mr. Williams," She said as she handed him a visitor's badge and an information form on a purple clipboard. "And he's also refusing treatment."

His pen faltered on the paper, causing his 'e' to look more like an 'o'.

"What? Didn't he just break his arm?" Matthew asked, confused as he attempted to fix his mistake by running his pen tip over it a couple of times and darkening the line. "I mean, this really isn't the first time he's gotten a cast."

The nurse shrugged, accepting the clipboard and pen back.

"You better ask his doctor. I'm sure they're still arguing in his room, 191," She replied with a short laugh and he returned it nervously, fiddling with sticking the badge to the T-shirt that he had thrown on last night. He hadn't realised it was a red and white raglan with a red maple leaf on the front but it really shouldn't have be much of a surprise.

"Thank you," He nodded as he made his way to his brother, letting an exasperated sigh escape his lips. What was Alfred thinking? It's just a stupid broken arm and cast; as a nation, he's certainly gotten far worse and painful injuries than this. Not to mention how many times he had actually broken his arm in ways that had nothing to do with wars anyway.

Matthew shook off his annoyed inner thoughts as he knocked politely on the door of Room 191, clearly hearing arguing voices behind it.

"…heroes don't need this!" He couldn't help but grin at the sound of Alfred's voice even when it was whiny and loud.

A second later, the door was yanked open to reveal a frazzled, balding man in a long white lab coat, clutching onto his clipboard for dear life.

"Are you Matthew Williams?" He asked, desperation clear in his voice.

"Um, yeah," He replied, giving a quick, reassuring smile because that doctor looked like he really needed it.

"Thank goodness," He muttered, letting the younger-looking man into the room. "Mr. Jones here has been driving me up the wall all night."

"I'm _really_ sorry," He began but was interrupted by a hand grabbing the back of his collar and yanking onto the bed.

"Mattie! You're finally here! What took you so long, man?" Alfred exclaimed, moving around as much as one possibly could with a broken arm wrapped loosely with bandages.

"I was in Vancouver, Alfred," Matthew deadpanned, resisting the urge to deal more damage by punching the other's arm. "That's like, twenty hours away, just in case you didn't know."

"Oh, well, whatever," Alfred laughed it off. "But you're here now-ow-ow!" He had attempted to hug his brother but was stopped by a pain shooting up his broken arm.

Matthew raised a blonde brow.

"That's what you get for refusing treatment," He said matter-of-factly, pointedly ignoring the childish pout on the other's face. "Why _are_ you refusing treatment anyway? It's just a cast, right?"

At this, the blonde pressed his pale pink lips together tightly and turned away from his brother's hardening stare. Matthew rolled his eyes at the childish behaviour. But instead of pressing Alfred further, he turned to the doctor who had been dozing against the doorway.

"Um, excuse me, doctor…?" He trailed off, approaching the man. The doctor awoke with a frantic look in his eyes, his pupils darting around the room and Matthew had to wonder how much damage did Alfred do to the poor man in one night.

"Roberts," He replied, a little too quickly as he caught sight of Alfred innocently picking on the loose threads of the sheets, whistling quietly underneath his breath.

"Doctor Roberts, I'm sorry for the behaviour of my brother," He apologized in a true Canadian manner. "He'll get his cast on now, if that is all that is needed."

"No!" Alfred protested loudly, turning the two men's gazes on him as he sat on the bed, his good arm reaching to pull Matthew back. The Canadian smartly stepped away before he could have a repeat of the collar yanking again. "I don't need a cast. _Heroes_ don't need it."

Matthew was tempted to say 'but you've gotten casts before, _hero_' but he bit his tongue at the last moment. He knew his brother had a hero complex and didn't want to get into the argument with his stubborn brother at this moment. There were more important matters at hand.

"Heroes get hurt too," He piped up. "So they'll need to be fixed up before they can go save people again, right?"

Alfred looked at him with such a pathetic face that Matthew just wanted to throw his hands up and say 'fuck it'. But that was completely against his foreign affairs policy so he'll suck it up and act like a man about it. Unlike Alfred.

"Come on, Alfie," He sighed. "I don't get why you're being so stubborn about this. You've gotten a cast tons of times before."

"Well, um," Doctor Roberts coughed out after a moment when it was clear that Alfred was going to answer. "The thing is, we only have one colour of short casts left. It's pink and he's refusing to use it."

Silence dominated the room as Matthew slowly turned the newly acquired information around in his head: Alfred, pink cast, stupid.

"What you're telling me is that you, Alfred," The passive-aggressive brother began lowly, making Alfred gulp nervously. "Are being idiotically stubborn over the _colour of a cast_?"

The American flinched, having the decency to laugh sheepishly and let his eyes linger on everything but the Canadian.

"_Well_, when you put it _that_ way…"

Matthew groaned and palmed his forehead, hard.

"Okay, whatever, Alfred," He waved his hands dismissively. "Let's just get the cast on and go. We still have a meeting tonight and I'm exhausted."

"But it's pink, Mattie! Pink!" Alfred broke down, his bottom lip wobbling. "I'm a hero, damn it, not a twelve-year-old girl that listens to Justin Bieber."

"Hey, don't make fun of Canadian artists," Matthew warned, a finger pointed at the other. "And heroes would suck it up, wouldn't they?"

"But it's so demeaning!" Alfred whined and at this point, Matthew would do anything to get out of this hospital. Or stay and collapse on one of the beds and sleep until he could sleep no more. He almost smiled dreamily at the thought of that before he was snapped back to reality by his brother's obnoxious voice. "I mean it's pink, a girly colour! So not heroic! The others will so laugh at me tonight."

Matthew wanted to say that the other countries will laugh at him regardless but sighed instead, wondering if that was the root of the problem.

"Is that it, Al?" He asked, arching a brow at Alfred, who merely shrugged. "Fine. I'll wear something stupid to the meeting too, all right?"

A light lit up in the American's eyes and a devilish smirk weaved itself over his usual red-carpet smile.

"Really?"

"Yes, Al, really," Matthew repeated and he was vaguely reminded of children's pinky promises. "Now will you go and get your cast on so we can leave?"

"Yeah, man!" The spitfire blonde all but danced out the door, dragging a bewildered doctor after him.

After the door slammed shut behind them, Matthew let out a relieved sigh, warily carding his fingers through his wavy hair. The deal he made with America didn't phase him at all because he knew the worst the other could probably do was make him wear an American hockey jersey and as bad as that would be, he would live. Besides, he was certain his mysterious 'gift' of invisibility would save him from mass embarrassment anyway.

Unfortunately, fate had something else planned for the quiet Canadian. In other words, Alfred had something entirely different in mind.

XXX

After Matthew drove Alfred home from the hospital, he returned to the modest hotel room he had booked.

He barely had time to lock his door before he passed out cold, his legs hanging off the side of the queen bed, one arm still hooked in the strap of his backpack.

At approximately half an hour before the meeting was due to begin, Matthew groggily woke up to the sounds of shuffling. He let a gargled moan, twisting around to lie on his side as he forced his violet eyes opened.

"Al-Alfred?" He murmured, wondering if this was a bad dream as he squinted at the blurry blonde figure that was currently rummaging through his luggage.

"Oh, hey, Mattie," He greeted as if he hadn't just broken in and was now pawing through the Canadian's things without permission. Matthew sat up slowly, head still slightly fuzzy from sleep, and readjusted his glasses so Alfred became all-too clear.

"What are you doing?" Matthew narrowed his eyes at the other suspiciously, inwardly grinning at the hot pink cast the American sported underneath his dress shirt. He had to give him credit though; Alfred wore it as if he was walking down a runway in Paris. But that wasn't a surprise really since he could probably wear a banana suit and still look good in it.

"Don't tell me you forgot our deal already!" Alfred exclaimed, his cast-covered arm frozen over a pair of Canada's indigo Roots jeans. Matthew's thoughts raced through his head, images of the day replaying in his mind before it landed on a scene of them in the hospital room and an imaginary light bulb went on above his head.

"Oh," He said. "That."

"Duh!" Alfred strolled over, hitting him on the arm in a brotherly fashion. Except that he had the strength of fifty states and one federal district behind him and that made it hurt a lot more than it should have. "Come on, Matt, we don't have all day here."

Canada resisted the urge to point out that he had said the same things a few hours prior and _America_ had not listened. But he was already being yanked to his feet and something red was shoved into his arms.

"You said you'd wear something embarrassing to the meeting too, right?" Alfred said eagerly, obviously not expecting an answer since he ploughed right on before Matthew could even open his mouth, let alone formulate a response. "So here ya go. You should fee lucky since I could have made you wear a _skirt_ or something equally embarrassing. But, since I'm a hero after all, I've got to be at least a little bit nice, right?"

"What is this?" The bilingual man asked as he shook out the material in his hands. As soon as it became apparent about what he was holding, he spluttered, blood rushing to his face as he glared at his brother. "Red _skinny_ jeans? Alfred!" He twitched as he chucked the pair of pants back at the other. "I'm so not wearing them to the meeting!"

"What?" Alfred exclaimed in response as he watched Matthew's brows furrow up, his cheeks stained a shade of pink that rivalled his cast's. "It's not that bad! France wears skinny jeans all the time and he's your _dad_." The rambunctious blonde pulled a face as he retrieved the offending piece of clothing off of the floor where it had fallen before he could catch it.

"Papa's got nothing to do with this," Matthew wrinkled up his nose as he shook his head, hopefully cooling off his heated cheeks. "And besides, it's France we're talking about here."

"Fine," Alfred huffed. "If you're not going to keep your end of the deal, then neither will I." With that said, he gripped the top of his cast where the white rim met his skin and began yanking at it.

Matthew's eyes widened. He didn't doubt his brother in the least, not with that giant purple bruise forming on his arm.

"What the fuck, Al?" He spluttered, arms waving wildly. "O-Okay, okay, I'll wear it! Just don't tear off your cast!" In the back of his mind, he knew Alfred was playing dirty but as the more soft-spoken part of North America, he deemed it his duty to appease the other, like he had always done.

An obnoxious grin weaved itself over the other blonde's lips as he once again thrust the bright pair of jeans into Matthew's face.

"I love you, Mattie!" He called out to the other man who had retreated to the bathroom. Five minutes later found Canada donning the tight red pants as he exited the washroom, yanking and pulling anxiously at the jean-like material.

"God, this is so uncomfortable," He complained as Alfred whistled jokingly though Matthew did really look nice in it. "Better be happy." He warned the other. He received a crooked smile in return, a more honest version of his 1000-watt grin that he showed to everyone else.

"I am, really," Alfred replied before he rolled up his sleeves, showing off the brightly coloured cast that covered his right arm from elbow down. "Let's go the meeting, shall we?" He said, a playful smile on his lips.

And Canada couldn't help but let out a laugh because really, the things he'd do for his brother were really, truly ridiculous sometimes. But he knew he'd do it all over again. Unforunately.

XXX

**Notes:**

**21 hours and seventeen minutes: **I Google-mapped this up :D

**Timmy's: **I not entirely sure if _everyone _knows of this but it's short for Tim Hortons a Canadian (and places in America that are close to the border) coffee house chain. Timbits are round pieces of donuts that they sell. Yummy~ :D

**North Las Vegas Hospital: **I made this up! I'm not really sure if this exists! Along with Doctor Roberts and the front desk nurse.

**Roots: **A Canadian-based clothing company. Lots of beavers, moose and 'Canada' xDD

**One federal district: **In case anyone doesn't know, Washington D.C. is not (in) any state; it's a federal district.

Matthew actually turned out a lot more passive-aggressive and not-so-soft-spoken than I had intended QuQ Hopefully that that wasn't too, too OOC DD:

**I'm pretty sure that's it (hopefully xD) and I hope you enjoyed this~ Con crit and whatever else is appreciated since I haven't been vigorously writing these days : Still I hope it was all right~~ :D Thanks for reading!**

**-atom**


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